Briefly Falling
by Thehazeofdusk
Summary: It takes you to the brink of oblivion before you realise what you'll lose.


There isn't a specific X-Men universe I had in mind for this one shot, so please imagine it however you want. Whether it be the comic-verse, movie-verse, evo-verse, etc, it's completely up to you :)

* * *

Gambit had been hit.

Rogue didn't even acknowledge how it had happened until he was gasping for air and writhing in pain.

She'd roughly yanked out the main wires from another sentinel, watching it loose its power and fall limp amongst the rubble. With her chest heaving and heart thumping, she'd tried to look for her teammates within the fray. Rogue had heard him before she'd seen him. Gambit had yelled for her, his tone alarmingly urgent and rough, perhaps just a few metres behind her. She'd whipped around in the relief of finding someone she knew, barely fast enough to catch a glimpse of something just inches away from her face, before she was aggressively ripped away by a pair of hands.

She hit the ground sharply, and rolled over almost instantaneously to fight back. But instead of an enemy, she turned face to face with Gambit. He was on the floor, clutching at his ribs and groaning through clenched teeth. He cried out as the ground shook and stray rubble tumbled across him.

Rogue scrambled towards him instinctively, clumsily pushing away the crumbling brick and and concrete from his body, a large patch on his uniform already dark with blood.

Her eyes were wild with realisation as he applied pressure with both hands, grunting as she tried to move him.

"Sorry," she apologised repeatedly, sitting him up and trying not to let her stomach sink too much at the strangled noises that escaped the back of his throat.

"Shit, Gambit." She panicked as she dragged him to a half collapsed wall for him to sit up against. "Shit."

"'M okay." He said, his face growing paler by the second and his breath heavy.

"The hell did you do that for?" She chastened him, shifting his already blood soaked hands to get a look at his wound.

"Y' were gunna get hit."

Rogues expression was pained at the sight of his injury. It was bleeding too much for her to even comprehend the extent of the laceration, spreading across the side of his abdomen and looking progressively worse by the second.

"Hank!" Rogue shouted, her voice shaking and cracking. Another rumble in the earth stole the sound from her mouth as she called out for help, her fingers tangled with his as they applied pressure together.

"Chèrie."

"What?" She shot back, frantically searching for anyone who could get him somewhere safe.

"I ain't gunna die."

"Ah know that, Swamp Rat!" She snapped, neither of two willing to acknowledge the doubt that settled between them.

"Then stop panickin'," he reasoned, freeing one of their intwined hands to slide his fingers under her jaw and draw her close.

Rogue blinked, but allowed herself to slide further between his legs, still kneeling on the hard ground.

"Ah ain't gunna leave you here, Cajun," she said sternly, ignoring the burning behind her eyes.

"Then don't," he murmured, his gaze blazing and pleading.

It took her a moment to understand, too caught off guard by the situation to fully grasp his implications. She exhaled and was surprised to find herself crying as his eyelids drooped.

"You fall asleep on me then Ah'm gunna do just that." She threatened, her words empty and meaningless to both of them.

Gambit released a breathy laugh, his sweat running thin channels through the dust on his face and across the dips and lines of his skin.

"Y' promise y' gunna stay?"

He hissed when Rogue pressed harder against his wound. Her expression was uncharacteristically soft and tender, her lips trembling and the words barely audible off the tip of her tongue.

"Yeah. Ah promise."

She leaned closer, removing one of her hands to cup his face gently between gloved fingers. His breath shook, rattling against her face. Even as he grinned at her, she could see the break in his facade, the fear and panic as blood soaked heavily through their palms.

"This is peachy, huh?" He rasped, ashen faced and barely comprehending his surroundings. Nothing but her.

She laughed, but the sound was choked up in the back of her throat and hard to distinguish from a sob. Rogue brushed back strands of his hair from his forehead shakily, not really acknowledging the intimacy of the action.

"Why'd ya have to go get hit, Swamp Rat?" She asked, applying pressure with her right hand, and rhythmically stroking his forehead with the other.

"I might have t' do it more often is this is the sorta treatment y' give me." He joked through gritted teeth, groaning as the ground shook and dislodged the pile of rubble he currently resided in.

"You really are crazy if you start tryin' to get yourself killed on my account." She was shaking as she noticed how his eyelids sagged and the tint of fresh blood on his lips.

He hummed in answer, too exhausted to reply in words. Then smiled up at her. A _real_ smile. She suddenly wished she'd seen it more times than she had, and started trying to control the rush of tears. Gambit watched the green haze of her eyes and golden lace embroidered within her silhouette, a vision of intoxicating bliss. Momentarily, he wondered if he'd already died and for some reason managed to weasel his way into heaven. But the touch of her hand and her ragged breath on his face felt too tangible to be a dream, so he closed his eyes and concentrated on the warmth of her attention.

"Gambit, if you close your goddamn eyes again Ah'm gunna have to kill you myself," Rogue cried, shaking him from his daze. His eyes opened blearily, and the pain in his side subsided as she pressed her forehead to his temple, her hair a thin barrier between their skin.

He had tried to talk, to tell her all the words that had failed him every single moment he'd laid eyes on her. But he could barely breathe, and it took all his effort to keep his gaze firmly on hers. _If this is death_, he thought, _maybe it ain't so bad_, as she kissed his cheek quickly.

"You ain't gunna die on me. Not now, Gambit."

He tried to tell her his name, but his vision was fading fast, and all he could hear was Rogue screaming for help. He wasn't in pain. Which was odd as he'd had many close shaves and each one had been painful, lonely, and suffocating. But all he felt was the warmth of her lips on his temple, and decided that dying was something he wouldn't mind doing more than once if it meant he got to feel like this.

He doesn't remember anything after that.

But when he wakes up, the artificial light of the infirmary too bright for it to be comfortable, he smells her scent. Cherry blossoms and dark chocolate.

She's not there though, but she left a queen of hearts tucked in his palm.

He fades in an out of consciousness for nearly three weeks, never once noticing the thin card hidden in his hand.

When he wakes up again, this time with comprehensive thoughts and fuzzy words which he could just about hiss out between gritted teeth, she's still not there.

But he notices the card she left, flips it between his fingers and brushes it back and fourth across his lips.

He drifts off to sleep with the queen of hearts pressed against his lips, worn from his touch.

His eyes open blearily, he guesses its about four in the morning from the ethereal blue light filtering through the blinds. The clock ticks lightly and the trees share secrets to one another in the absence of others, their indescipherable whispers just reaching him through the open window.

It smells like cherry blossom and dark chocolate, and his heart pounds as his fingers slip through something which isn't a playing card. _That_ was still tucked against his chest for safe keeping. It was something -some_one_\- else, a gloved hand clasped gently in his own, loosely and languidly.

He turns to his left, his insides soaring and aching simultaneously - a much better feeling than any of the morphine he was being fed could ever give him. She was asleep in the chair next to him, face partly obscured by tendrils of white hair. Long, thick lashes skim her cheeks, soft flushed lips parted in unintelligible breaths, the bridge of her nose shadowed, but not enough to conceal the smattering of freckles across her pale skin. Briefly he wondered if this was some drug induced dream which was about to end very well for him, but when she shifted and sighed his breath hitched at the euphoric realisation that she was real.

"Rogue." He croaks, stroking his thumb across hers. _God_, he wanted to touch her.

Rogue inhaled and moved sleepily.

"Rogue." He repeated.

Her eyes fluttered open, and he was struck at just how bright they were even in the haze of indigo.

"Hi." She said softly, her face dropping as she leant forwards. "You're okay."

He stared at her, pulling their intwined hands onto his chest.

"'M not dead?" He asked lightly, managing what felt like a grin but probably looked much more painful.

She smiled widely and exhaled, "Nah, sugar. Wasn't gunna let you bail out on us just yet."

"Wasn't plannin' on it." He rasped.

"Good."

He paused, watching her, breathing in her scent and her touch. Relishing in the bliss of her gentle companionship, something he'd craved for God knows how long. He wasn't sure what to do with himself now that he had it.

"Y' here."

She ran her thumb across his skin. "Yeah, Ah'm here, Gambit. You really freaked me out you know that? Ah thought Ah'd- _we_ thought we'd..." she trailed off and bowed her head, avoiding his eyes.

He shook his head and clasped her hand a little tighter.

"Remy." He murmured, catching her eye once more. "My name. 'S Remy." He reiterated, kissing her knuckles and fighting the exhaustion in his body.

She smiled, and he quickly decided that this was in fact a very _very_ good dream that he'd wake up from and then find himself either back at the acolyte base or the thieves mansion. Either that or he really was dead.

"Hi Remy," her smile was heady. She moved his hand to her cheek and held it there with her own. He brushed her skin with bare fingers and traced her lips with his thumb.

"My names Anna Marie."

It hadn't occurred to him at the time that he was now one of the very few people who knew her real name, if not the only person in Bayville. Later, it would be his greatest steal yet to date, priding himself in her secret and the trust in which she'd handed him. He would only ever use it in their moments alone, during the heated moments and their coveting whispers and gentle declarations. So of course, still dizzy from the painkillers, he just smiled widely, rolling the words around his tongue and his thoughts, enjoying its resonance and taste.

"I like y' name. It sounds like you."

"Oh yeah?" She laughed, eyes shining.

"Yeah." He really wanted to kiss her.

"I like _your_ name." Rogue told him, reaching out with her free hand to touch his cheek.

He skimmed her mouth with his fingers, pulling the soft pillow of her bottom lip down before she caught it between her teeth and kissed it gently.

His heart palpably throbbed at the action.

"'M touchin' you." He said, eyes blazing even through the weight of sleep.

"Yeah, funny that," she replied with a light laugh.

"Y' very pretty," Remy said, words thick with his accent and morphine.

Rogue laughed properly this time, and leaned her face into his hand.

"You really don't stop do you?"

"But I mean it." He replied, his hand going to the back of her head and pulling her closer. "Y' feel nice."

"So do you." She grinned, sliding next to him onto the bed.

"'M touchin' you." He repeated slightly disbelievingly.

Rogue hummed, and turned on her side, running a hand through his hair and pushing it back off his forehead.

"Got control," is all she said, shuffling closer as his hand stroked circles on her waist. "It's not consistent, it's only for a few minutes."

Remy furrowed his brow.

"How long was I asleep?"

She savoured the feel of his hair like it was oxygen, breathed in the soft brown tendrils which he kept just ever so slightly too long and that always smelled of honey. Rogue twisted a few curls at the nape of his neck with her fingers absentmindedly.

"About a month. In and out."

He looked at her long and hard, and then smiled.

"Y' very pretty." He said again, eyes half closed.

She pulled him tightly into her, careful not to touch his stitches.

"Ah need to get Hank to lower your morphine intake," she sighed contentedly, and then paused. "Are you alright, Remy?"

He sighed against her throat and curled his arms protectively around her, fingers clutching at her t-shirt. She pulled his head closer to her.

"Yeah," he murmured, lazily kissing the space between her collar bones, "'m wit' you."


End file.
